Life's better with cake and a sprinkle of fairy dust
I’m not the most deeply religious person around. Granted I did spend a big part of my youth in church, and for that I am thankful. That gave me a decent foundation in bibilical teachings. From time to time, I knock the socks off of my husband, who grew up all his life in church, with my knowledge (memory) of Old Testament stuff, like how to spell King Nebuchadnezzar.
So I’m not terribly religious, nor are we the church-going type of couple, but we do pray and believe in God’s will for our lives and in some strange “karma-esque” way, believe in doing good to others.
Last night, after pulling a couple of particularly grueling all-nighters in my cafe-building adventure, and as I lugged my heavy bag and tired body home, I lamented to God about what an uphill journey this was turning out to be. (Well, nobody ever said starting a business was going to be easy.) I was worrying about everything from money to partners to failing to burning boats.
When I reached home after midnight, I turned on my laptop, logged onto Facebook and saw that one of my dearest friends had posted a Bible verse about how we can never fathom the length, the depth, the breadth of God’s love. I clicked ‘Like’ and proceeded to rain verbal diarrhea through FB chat on her about what a crappy week I’ve had and how much money I need to raise and how everything just seemed to be going oh-so-wrong.
Then I recalled this week she posted about being at the hospital.
I quickly asked after her father.
She related that her parents had been ill for a while. Not life-threatening, thank God, but a prolonged toll physically, emotionally and financially, especially on her. It is so easy to give thanks when things are good, but so hard to pray when things go awry, isn’t it? When I heard the words “half-hearted prayer”, I seriously wanted to slap myself for being such a selfish idiot. Here I was thinking I was shouldering the heaviest burden in the world but it all seemed so trivial compared to what she was troubled about.
Felt like the biggest idiot in the room there and then.
You know I think Jesus must have felt troubled about his imminent ordeal at the cross the whole time, but he still had to endure stupid questions from the disciples? Questions like, how do we feed the people, Lord? The storm is coming! Or there’s no more wine, how? Like big freaking deal!
Yeap, that’s how I felt at that point. Like a silly, blubbering idiotic disciple.
No wonder Jesus exhorted his disciples to ‘pray often for one another’. When we focus on our own problems, it only distorts our perspective of the magnitude of the problem. When we pray for others, the perceived magnitude of our own issues diminishes. In turn, God looks a lot bigger and stronger than our own stupid problems.
Read an inspiring quote recently, “Prayer is not telling God how big your problem is, but telling your problem how big your God is.”
So there. Problems, meet God.